What Dumbledore Saw
by Oliviaface
Summary: A short account of Albus and Harry's encounter with the Mirror of Erised, from Dumbledore's perspective. Hint: he didn't see socks.


Dumbledore watched as Harry entered the room, ignorant of its occupant, making good use of the Invisibility Cloak as he had instructed. Harry pulled it off as he rushed to the mirror, sitting down and smiling up at his relatives, content. Dumbledore felt for the boy, but he knew the draw of the mirror well, and this cycle needed to be broken.

"So – back again, Harry?" His words had their desired effect. Harry completely lost interest in the mirror, for the moment.

"I – I didn't see you, sir."

Of course he didn't. "Strange how nearsighted being invisible can make you." Perhaps when Harry was a bit older, he would tell him about an incident in his far youth in which he was wearing an invisibility cloak, tripped over a cat and nearly got his ear cursed off. He got up and went to sit with Harry on the floor.

"So, you, like hundreds before you, have discovered the delights of the Mirror of Erised."

"I didn't know it was called that, sir."

"But I expect you've realized by now what it does?"

"It – well – it shows me my family –"

"And it showed your friend Ron himself as head boy," thinking back to last night, when he had watched the boys, bemusedly, discovering the function of the mirror.

"How did you know –?"

"I don't need a cloak to be invisible." Harry looked slightly awed; perhaps that was a bit much. "Now, can you think what the Mirror of Erised shows us all?"

Harry shook his head.

"Let me explain." Dumbledore fell easily into the cadences of lecture, though he had not taught a class for a long time now. "The happiest man on earth would be able to use the Mirror of Erised like a normal mirror, that is, he would look into it and see himself exactly as he is. Does that help?" He watched Harry's face – seeing the cogs of a well-oiled young mind turning was something he never tired of.

"It shows us what we want… whatever we want…"

Close. "Yes and no. It shows us nothing more or less than the deepest, most desperate desire of our hearts. You, who have never known your family, see them standing around you."

Inwardly, he sighed, thinking of James and Lily, wondering what Harry's life might have been like were they still alive. "Ronald Weasley, who has always been overshadowed by his brothers, sees himself standing alone, the best of all of them. However, this mirror will give us neither knowledge or truth. Men have wasted away before it, entranced by what they have seen, or been driven mad, not knowing if what it shows is real or even possible."

It was perhaps, again, a bit much, but he had to make sure this would be the last time Harry would be drawn to it. "The mirror will be moved to a new home tomorrow, Harry, and I ask you not to go looking for it again. If you ever _do _run across it, you will now be prepared. It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live, remember that." Visions of Ariana came, unbidden – he willed them away. "Now, why don't you put that admirable cloak back on and get off to bed?"

They stood up together. "Sir – Professor Dumbledore? Can I ask you something?"

He knew right away what the question would be, but indulged him. "Obviously, you've just done so. You may ask me one more thing, however."

"What do you see when you look in the mirror?"

He knew what would be there if he looked – a fleeting glance confirmed that nothing had changed. His heart ached to see the lies reflected in the cold, gilded glass.

A few decades younger, this Dumbledore had his arm around an even younger Gellert, whose blonde curls mingled with Albus's auburn locks. Gellert was smiling roguishly, leaning up to kiss him on the cheek… a little ways off, his parents held hands with a whole, perfect, unharmed Ariana. Aberforth had an arm around their mother. They were all smiling at him, teasing him with a vision of this unbroken, happy family – a past that had come and gone many years ago.

He had spent many hours in front of the mirror, sometimes weeping, sometimes cold and empty… but he had learned long ago to bury his pain deep within. Emotion had no place in a duel. Love had served him well, but combined with lust, it had destroyed everything he held dear.

Harry was still waiting for an answer.

"I? I see myself holding a pair of thick, woolen socks."

The boy didn't look convinced.

"One can never have enough socks. Another Christmas has come and gone and I didn't get a single pair. People will insist on giving me books."

Whether satisfied or just confused, he swung the cloak around his shoulders, becoming a floating head. "Goodnight, Professor."

"Goodnight, Harry. Do keep an eye out for Mrs. Norris."

Harry smiled, nodded, and pulled the remaining fabric over his head, leaving the door open behind him.

Dumbledore meant to leave, but the pull of the mirror was too much tonight. He told himself he would only be a few minutes, but he knew it would be longer.  
>He stood in front of them, running his fingers along the space where Ariana's impeccable rosy cheek would be. She giggled silently, the joy in her features making his heart constrict. He pressed his full hand to the glass, looking to Gellert, who matched him, separated by space, time, and a half a centimeter of glass. His eyes were crinkled with happiness, but regret tinged his light brow – and deep wanting was always on this Gellert's face.<p>

He was much too old to be affected by such things, but he spent a good hour marveling at the perfect hoax, and mourning what could never be.


End file.
